


King of Hearts

by minnesotamemelord



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Bisexual Jimmy Kent, Canon Compliant, Depressed Thomas, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Poor Thomas, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-10 12:59:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17426345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minnesotamemelord/pseuds/minnesotamemelord
Summary: Mrs. Patmore said that Jimmy hadn't sent a Valentine, or at least not to someone in the house. However, that was not entirely true.





	King of Hearts

"How the 'ell have you beaten me again? It's not possible, you must be cheating!" Thomas chuckled, the cigarette between his lips dangling precipitously. 

"It is possible, and I'm not cheating." 

"But you've never managed to beat me more than once or twice in a night! You've beaten me six times already." Jimmy sneered as he gathered the cards into his hands and shuffled them deftly. Smoke drifted around their heads, creating a screen around them, making it seem like they were alone in the room. They weren't alone, Anna was reading a magazine at the other end of the table, across from Bates, but it didn't matter. Not to them. 

"I think I know when I'm beat, Barrow. I'll see you in the morning." Jimmy rose to leave, but Thomas's long fingers wrapped around his wrist, holding him back. Instinctively, Thomas pulled back, fear and embarrassment written on his face. Not long ago, a touch like would have ruined any friendship that had settled between them. Jimmy had noticed for a while that Thomas wouldn't touch him. Not since the 'incident'. Not so much a brush of shoulders in passing or a friendly clap on the shoulder during a game. Not even when passing cards. 

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"Thomas. We're friends. It's alright. Truly."

"You're sure? I know you-"

"Thomas. I'll stay for a few more moments." Jimmy sat back down, reaching across the table for a newspaper, as Thomas reached for a teapot and a pair of cups and saucers. They fell into an easy silence as they often did, sipping tea and passing sections of the paper back and forth. Thomas knew just how Jimmy liked his tea (more milk and sugar than any respectable Englishman would ever take, for the deeply shocking reason that he disliked tea), and Jimmy knew which columns Thomas liked to read (film critiques, although he rarely had the opportunity to attend the cinema, and politics, despite the fact that he refused to participate in political discourse).

"So..." Jimmy glanced up over the rim of his teacup, tapping out the final ashes of his cigarette into the ashtray. "I saw you got a letter this morning. A secret admirer, perhaps?"

"What's it to you?"

"I'm a friend, Thomas, and I want you to be happy. Unlike most of the people here."

"Huh. Well, thank you. And I did. Doesn't say who it's from, though. Could be Daisy."

"Nah, not her. Don't you see how hung up she is on Alfred? Lord knows why."

"Well, then who?"

"You're sure you can't figure it out? Come on, Thomas, look again." Thomas pulled the card out of his breast pocket and scanned it again. The outside of the card was decorated with a tiny, but incredibly detailed cherub among a cluster of roses. Thomas cleared his throat and began to read aloud, lowering his voice enough that Anna and Bates couldn't hear him over their own conversation.

" _To my valentine-_

_Though Cupid's aim is true,_

_And piercing is his dart,_

_I shall not mind if you_

_Will give to me your heart_." Clearing his throat, Thomas closed the card and set it down on the table.

"Well, that's rather lovely. I daresay, somebody must love you one helluva lot to send you a card like that. Is it signed?"

"No, just an 'x'. It's not lovely, but rather irritating. How'm I supposed to know who to give my heart to if I don't even know who sent it?"

"Well, maybe they thought you'd know who it was."

"How?"

"I don't know, the handwriting?"

"Whatever. It's probably just a joke anyway." Thomas rose to his feet, preparing to toss the letter into the fire, getting the whole situation over and done with.

"Christ almighty, Thomas, stop! I wrote the letter!" He froze, his hand halfway to the fireplace.

"You what?" Thomas's voice was so low it was hardly audible, and Jimmy couldn't tell if his tone was angry, or upset, or excited, or perhaps some combination of the three. Anna and Bates hurriedly gathered their things and with one glance between them, and one at the men standing by the fire, they scurried out of the room. Jimmy had pushed to his feet to stop Thomas, and now he shifted from foot to foot, unsure of what to say.

"Thomas, I-"

"No. Stop. So I was right. This is some kind of- of sick joke? You planned to make me wonder who had written this until what, it was too agonizing to keep wondering and I broke down? Maybe you could finally be underbutler then, couldn't you? And you'd finally be rid of me." For the first time, Jimmy looked really, truly hurt.

"Is that all you think of me, Thomas? As some vindictive, petty flirt, content to exploit your... inclinations, just to get what I want?"

"Why not? You've done it before! Give me one good reason not to burn this right now and never speak to you again!"

"I-" Jimmy sighed, pushing his loose blond locks out of his eyes. "Sit down, Thomas. For just a moment. Let me explain." Thomas hesitated, his eyes twitching back and forth between the blazing flames and the young man before him, who looked older and more tired than he had any right to, being as young as he was. Finally, his hand dropped loosely to his side, although the emotions flaring in his icy gray eyes did not fade.

"Explain. Now." Jimmy had seen Thomas's sharp tongue before, but had not been the subject of it until this moment. He supposed it was the remains of Thomas's affection for him that kept his meaner side from coming out, but that didn't seem to deter him now.

"Right. I- God. This is too hard. Forget I said anything."

"Talk, Jimmy! For the love of God, was breaking my heart once enough for you, or does it seem necessary to do it a second time?"

"No. It doesn't. Sorry. I just- I need a smoke." Jimmy fumbled for another cigarette, but couldn't seem to stop his hands shaking long enough to light a match.

"Here." Thomas's voice softened as he lit it, leaning forward to allow the end to catch.

"Thanks. I, um, I guess I should start at the beginning. That night, in my room."

"Please, I can't talk about that. Not again."

"Thomas, you wanted an explanation. Shut up and listen if you want, or leave. It's your choice." Thomas slumped backwards, shocked by the authority Jimmy had managed to muster. "That night, when you..." Jimmy let out a shaky breath, about to say the words he hadn't dared to say ever before. "When you kissed me... even half-asleep, in the middle of the night, it made me feel more than I ever had with any girl. Not necessarily more of any one thing, just... more. Like, for the first time, I existed in someone's world other than my own."

"I know the feeling," Thomas muttered.

"And I've never felt anything worse than what I felt after you left- after I kicked you out. And it all just spiraled from there, and it got to the point where it was out of my hands. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. And then there came that day at the fair. I'd been so awful to you, and you came in, a goddamned knight in armor, and you rescued me. That just made me feel even worse."

"Is this just a pity parade, or are you finally going to tell me why you sent the card?"

"I'm gettin' to it, hold your horses. We were in town on our last half-day, and I thought I might buy a Valentine for Lady Anstruther, y'know, as a joke. And I looked out the window of the shop, and I just saw you sitting in the park. It was warm, you remember, for that time of year, and you had the sun on your face, and I've never seen you look that happy. All it takes to cheer up Thomas Barrow is a bit of sunshine. Who'd've thought?" Jimmy chuckled, then remembered himself. "So I bought another one. I didn't even know if I was going to send it until a couple of days ago."

"And why did you?" Thomas looked more broody than ever, his eyes glazed over and unfocused.

"Impulse, I suppose. And..."

"And what?"

"Because I didn't think I could keep living if I never told you." Thomas's head snapped up.

"If you never told me... what, exactly?"

"Christ, do I have to say it out loud?"

"You absolutely do, or I'll think you're not goin' to say what I think you're goin' to say."

"Fine." Jimmy took a cautious glance around.

"There's nobody else, Jimmy, they've all gone to bed. Just tell me, or I swear to God I might just snap in half."

"Right, and we wouldn't want that." Jimmy leaned across the table, until his face was mere inches from Thomas's, and he could practically hear Thomas's speeding heartbeat. "Thomas Barrow, I love you." Thomas's breathing hitched for a moment, then resumed, but it sounded strangled. His face was a cross between abject alarm and embarrassment. He didn't speak.

"Thomas? D'you hear me? I said-"

"I heard what you said. Can you just say it again, make sure I didn't imagine it?"

"Alright. I love you." This time, Thomas collapsed, as if all of the muscles that held him up had suddenly gone lax, and he dropped like a marionette doll whose strings had been cut. His shoulders shook heavily.

"Oh, God, are you okay?" No response. Jimmy pushed back from the table and rushed to the other side. "Thomas? Thomas?" Thomas's head rose slowly from the table, and Jimmy could see that what he thought had been sobs had actually been peals of laughter. Tears had welled in his eyes, brought forward by the howling and whooping.

"I'm so sorry, Jimmy, I just-" He broke out it laughter again. "You _love me!_ You actually love me!"

"Not so loud, Thomas!" Jimmy hissed, and Thomas suddenly sobered.

"Right, 'course. It's just... you couldn't've realized this a year ago? You'd've spared the both of us quite a bit of pain and anxiety."

"I'm a bastard, Thomas, but of course, you know that."

"Cheeky devil." Thomas grinned, biting his lip. "I just- I've got one question. If you don't mind."

"Ask and we'll see."

"When did you know?"

"What, that I loved you? Let's see... must've been when I came to see you, after you took that beating for me. I was so sure we could just be mates, but when I was reading the paper, you leaned back, and you had this look on your face, identical to the one you had in the park. The total absence of worry. It was infectious."

"Not sure that's ever been said about me."

"Well, Thomas, frankly, that's because you're a bit of a rogue, to put it as kindly as I can. I believe I can safely say I'm one of the only people who's ever seen you truly happy, and that's because you're malicious and nasty to everyone you're not in love with. I know who you are, in here." Jimmy pressed his palm to the stiff white starch of Thomas's livery, feeling his heart race. "And you know the same for me."

"I just have to know one more thing."

"What's that?"

"Will you kiss me?" Jimmy refused to meet his eyes, his fingers tracing circles over Thomas's knee.

"I dunno, Thomas. Can we just wait, and-and see how it goes?"

"Jimmy." Thomas caught Jimmy's hand mid-circle and lifted it to press a soft kiss to his palm. "Just one kiss, Jimmy. 'S all I ask."

Slowly, Jimmy nodded, and Thomas leaned forward, closing his eyes in a silent prayer. As their lips met, all memory of their first kiss (if it could be called that) were wiped from memory. Thomas's lips closed gently over Jimmy's, just the faintest taste of smoke and tea lingering on both of their breaths. They were rather still for a moment, then Jimmy threw his arms around Thomas, pinning his back to the edge of the table, kissing furiously. Of course, for every action, there must be one that is both opposite and equal, so Thomas pushed right back with just as much force, if not more, his hands drifting up to either side of Jimmy's face, one sliding around the back to take a firm grip in his golden curls. Unfortunately, hard work gets tiring fast, and this kiss was quite possibly the hardest either of them had ever worked in their lives. Jimmy stumbled backwards as they broke apart, the sheer momentum it took to break the kiss sending him reeling.

"Christ almighty, is that what that's supposed to be like?"

"I believe so," Thomas said, panting heavily. He was thoughtful for a moment, then stood abruptly, backing Jimmy into one corner of the room.

"What on earth are you doing, Barrow?" Jimmy asked, chuckling. Thomas didn't respond for a moment.

"James Kent, I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved before. I'll love you to the continent, across the Atlantic, to the North Pole, the South Pole, and anywhere in between. I'll love you until the sun goes dark and until the very last breath leaves my body, and even then, I'm not sure. I'll love you when pigs fly and when hell freezes over. Nobody has ever loved anybody as strongly as I love you, and I doubt anybody ever will. And though we can never marry, we can never even be seen together, not like this, I'll love you from afar, if that's what it takes." Thomas pressed one last kiss to Jimmy's forehead, and with that, left the room. His footsteps echoed up the stairs, and Jimmy slumped against the wall. For so long it had been Jimmy _contra mundi._

Now, perhaps, it wouldn't be quite so lonely.

**Author's Note:**

> Not my best, but I really wanted to write this.


End file.
